Hedging your Bets
by samaryley
Summary: Sodapop Curtis finds himself in a position of having to decide between right and wrong, and family and justice. What he decides to choose may surprise even himself.
1. Chapter 1

It had _already_ been a long day.

Marty had called in sick for the night shift, so I had to cover. It was almost nine – closing time, and I had been at work since seven in the morning. Most of the time, it's pretty fun when Steve and I get to work the night shift together – normally, it's pretty slow, especially on weeknights. We usually get to goof around quite a bit... listen to the radio and stuff... but tonight had been exceptionally busy for a Thursday.

We had been straight-out the whole time, trying to get oil changes done in-between running out to pump gas. There wasn't even really any time for flirting with the few cute girls that pulled in. Thankfully, things slowed down at about a quarter to nine, so we had some time to get all the stuff done that I usually catch hell for if it ain't done when the boss comes in the next morning.

We both dreaded the job of transferring the old oil from the small bins – in which it was stored inside the shop – to the large barrels stored out in back, so we flipped a coin for it. Steve lost, and he was none too happy about it, grumbling curses as he grabbed the buckets and headed out back. It was a messy job – the openings in the tops of the barrels were small, and, even using a funnel, you were bound to end up with completely oil-soaked hands. Hell, we always had _some_ oil on our hands, but, after this particular job, you were looking at an extra fifteen minutes in the shower just getting it out from under your fingernails. I, personally, was looking forward to a _quick_ shower and going right to bed. I was beat.

I set about restocking the cigarettes and sodas, thinking about the weekend. Steve and I were going to head out to the game on Saturday night. I was sure I was gonna feel like a third wheel – again. It had been rough, since Sandy left. I didn't want to stay home, but going out with just Steve and Evie was getting real awkward. Sure, plenty of girls were interested in me, but I just hadn't been feeling like I was ready to put myself right back out there. What with all that had been going on at home, there really hadn't been any time for it, anyway. But now that things were calming down on the home front, I was starting to be able to think about girls again. I don't know, maybe one of the girls at the game would catch my eye. I was finally feeling like looking around again, a little bit.

No doubt, the truce that seemed to have been achieved between Ponyboy and Darry had contributed hugely to improving my state of mind. There's nothing like being stuck between two of the most stubborn people on Earth, both trying to convince you that they are right, when, in fact, they both are right and _wrong_, too, all at the same time. Seems like lately the two of them have actually started listening to each other, instead of automatically taking the opposite side just for spite. And, thank God, now when they do occasionally have a spat, they have the good sense to leave me out of it.

I had just about finished the top row of cartons when I heard a car pull up outside. I looked out the window and saw a car stopped right outside the door. I was relieved to see that they didn't want gas – we had chanced it and shut down the pumps a few minutes early. It looked like this was somebody just looking for directions, a pack of smokes, or maybe a cold drink. I stacked a few more cartons and turned around when I heard the door open and the telltale ding of the bell that announced the arrival of customers.

I recognized the guy when he came in, and was surprised to see him. He was a member of one of the other neighborhood gangs, the River Kings. He was way out of his normal territory - those guys run on the complete opposite side of town than we do. I had seen him a few times on those rare occasions that all of the the various greaser gangs found it necessary to band together against a common enemy - most recently it had been the rumble the night that Johnny and Dallas had died. Yeah, I was sure I had seen this guy there.

I saw recognition in his eyes, also, as he walked over toward the counter where I stood. He nodded in acknowlegement but didn't say anything.

"What can I get for you?" I asked. He looked at the wall behind me, and finally said,

"I'll take a carton of Kools." Something in his voice made me hesitate, but I turned and reached up to the shelf where I had just neatly stacked the Kools right next to the Lucky Strikes.

Before my hands could pull down a carton, I heard his voice, right at my ear, and a pointed presence on my back. Shit. I had just broken Greaser's cardinal rule number one: Never turn your back on a potential threat.

"And why don't you just give me everything you got there in that register, too."

I didn't move for a second, and he pushed the gun harder into my back.

"That ain't a fuckin' suggestion," he growled. "Do it!"

"Alright, man. Take it easy. I'm gettin' it." My hands were shaking as I fumbled with the register. Finally, it shot open and I pulled out the cash. It had been a busy day, and there was likely five hundred dollars or more in the drawer. He reached around me and grabbed it out of my hands, shoving me back against the shelves and causing cartons and loose packs of cigarettes to shower down, as I grabbed on to keep from falling. He took the money and the carton of Kools and backed toward the door.

I wasn't sure which I wanted more: for Steve to come back in, or for him to stay out, until he spoke again.

"You know what the fuckin' funny thing is about this, kid?" I had a real bad feeling about this.

"What?" I managed to whisper.

"I'm gonna kill you anyway," he said, and, instantly, I heard a crack, and my left shoulder exploded in the pain of a million bee stings. The bullet turned me around and knocked me against the shelves, causing what was left of the candy bars and cigarettes to fall, even knocking one of the shelves itself loose with the force of my impact. In my mind I saw images of Dallas, spun around by a police bullet, and I realized: I am going to die. I heard the car speed away, the squeal of tires on pavement.

I grabbed for my shoulder with my opposite hand, but matters only got worse when I crashed to the floor taking the full weight of my body on my now shattered shoulder. I screamed curses as the pain shot through my body.

I heard running footsteps and the ding of the door opening again.

"Soda? What the…?" Steve sounded terrified, and I would have expected no less of him. Gunshots did not normally ring out at the DX station.

"Where are you?" he yelled. I realized that the counter completely blocked his view of me on the floor.

"Steve… I'm here," I said. "Darry… you gotta call Pony and Darry." I could feel the blood pooling under my head where it lay against the dirty tile floor, and my focus was fading.

"_Jesus Christ, Soda!_" I saw him rip off his shirt felt and press it up against my wound, turning me over onto my back. At the same time he reached up to the counter with his other hand, knocking the phone to the floor so the bell rang right beside my head, and echoed there.

"Hang in there, buddy. You'll be okay." I shut my eyes as I heard him dialing.

"Yeah!" he yelled into the phone. "I need the cops and an ambulance at the DX on North Brighton! We just got robbed and my friend got shot!"

There was a brief silence. Steve was pressing down on my shoulder so hard that I really wanted to tell him to stop but I couldn't make my mouth work.

"Yeah, _**shot**_. Get somebody over here before he dies, for Christ's sake!" He slammed the phone back down, and I heard him dialing again. He leaned over.

"Soda, talk to me! Don't fade out on me, Soda! _C'mon!_" He was pleading with me. He turned his attention back to the phone when somebody answered.

"Ponyboy, get Darry and get down here, _**now!**_ Soda got shot!"

"Yes, just _**get down here, now!**_" He slammed the phone again. Every time, the bell echoed in my head.

Suddenly he was right down on the floor next to me, in my face.

"Shit, Soda! _Open your eyes!_ C'mon, we can't do this again. We _can't._ We need you! _Soda!_ He took the pressure off my shoulder for just a second, as he took my face in both hands and shook it. I opened my eyes and saw his own staring down with absolute terror.

"_Pony needs you!_" He knew exactly what to say to make me want to fight this.

I really tried to respond – to tell him that I loved him, to tell him to make sure that Pony and Darry knew how much I loved _them_ – but my eyes just wouldn't stay open.

The sound of distant sirens was the last thing I remember hearing.


	2. Chapter 2

I was moving, lying down. Being rolled somewhere. The sound of wheels rolling on a hard floor drowned out most everything else, though I could hear some unfamiliar voices.

"Prep OR three, and get Dr. Angers scrubbed in… Looks like it missed most of the major stuff. Lucky kid… Get me two units ready… Anyone know the kid's blood type?... Where's the brother?" The rolling stopped.

"He's A-positive." Darry's voice cut like a knife through the other noises.

"Is he going to be okay?" I guess Ponyboy was there, too, and he sounded like he was crying. _Was_ I going to be okay? I remembered being spun around by the shot, thinking I would die, just like Dallas. _Was_ I dying? I wasn't sure. My whole body was numb and paralyzed. I tried to open my eyes or talk, but couldn't.

"Anesthesia's ready…okay, let's get him in." The rolling started again and then stopped, and something was placed over my mouth. And anything I had been thinking or hearing or wanting to say just disappeared.

……………….

I didn't wake up all slow and groggy like people do in the movies. I woke with a start, tearing with my one good arm at the tube in my nose, trying to sit up, but realizing my mistake immediately when pain went searing through my left side. I cursed at the pain, and instantly Darry, Ponyboy, and Steve were at my side.

"Lay down, Soda. You're okay." Darry guided my head back down to the pillow.

Total confusion slowly made way for foggy memories of where I was and why I was there. I got shot. And it hurt. Man, it fucking _hurt_. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth and tried not to cry out.

"We'll get the nurse, Soda. Hang on." Darry was holding my hand on my good arm. Shit, the other arm and shoulder hurt so bad I wanted them gone. Cut off completely. Involuntarily, I made some pathetic whimpering sounds. Jesus, that's really tough, I thought, though my reputation wasn't exactly top on my list of priorities at the moment. I opened my eyes back up to see a nurse preparing to give me a shot.

"This will help you with the pain, honey," she said. "And let you sleep."

I swear, I practically leaned into that thing, and welcomed with open arms the nothingness it brought.

……………..

The next time I woke up it was a little more slowly, since I remembered enough not to move in any way that would cause more pain than what I was already feeling. I opened my eyes and looked around, expecting to see Darry or Ponyboy somewhere in the room. Nobody. I closed my eyes again, but opened them a few seconds later when I heard the door open. It was a nurse.

"Well, you're awake," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," I tried to joke, but my heart wasn't in it. _Damn_, but I hurt.

"Ready for some more pain control?" she asked, and I nodded. This time she handed me a little paper cup with pills and poured me a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. I drank it eagerly and even asked for a refill. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was.

"Where'd my brothers go?"

"They went home to shower and eat, since you were sleeping anyway. They stayed the whole night here with you, you know. They should be back in an hour or so. Of course, by then you'll probably be sleeping again," she laughed. "That little one sure is worried about you."

I had to grin at that. I was sure Darry was just as worried, but you would never know it from looking at him. Pony was the one who wore his emotions on the outside, just like he wore his clothes. I decided to try to stay awake until he got back; I knew he wouldn't relax until he heard - from me - that I was really all right.

"You need anything else, hon?"

"I don't think so. Tell my brothers to wake me up if I'm asleep when they get back. Just so they can see I'm okay." I knew Darry probably wouldn't, though.

"Will do. You rest 'til then."

"I will." With that she left.

I lay there, trying to stay awake but quickly losing the battle. Just as I was almost asleep, I heard the door open again but could hardly open my eyes. My eyelids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each. I heard footsteps coming over to my bed, and I was shocked to feel a sharp pinch on the unwrapped part of my lower arm. It hurt like hell.

"_Jesus!_" I cried out, half expecting to open my eyes and see Two-Bit. He often takes what he considers to be a joke too far before he realizes it.

It wasn't Two-Bit. It was the bastard greaser that shot me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed at him.

"You're one lucky sonofabitch, Sodapop Curtis," he snarled back. "You're supposed to be dead."

How the hell did this guy get in here, I wondered, then realized that he must have been waiting for me to wake up. Nobody would have thought it strange for him to be there – hell, there was usually at least one of the Kings in the hospital. They were into a lot rougher stuff than we were, obviously, since one of them had _shot_ me, for Christ's sake, for no reason at all. I had already given him the goddamned money.

"I'm here with a warning," he continued, and opened his jacket to reveal the very gun he had held up against my back the previous night. "You _dare_ name me to the cops and I promise you, I will come back to finish the job. You got lucky once, it ain't gonna happen the next time." He leaned down right into my face.

"You got that, Curtis?" He put his finger under my chin and lifted, forcing me to stare him right in the face.

I nodded. There was something in the guy's eyes that assured me he was dead serious.

"Not one _fucking_ word," he said.

"I won't. I swear. I won't say anything." Hell, I didn't even know the kid's name, anyway.

"You better not. Or you're a dead man." He got up and walked out without another word.

I stared at the back of the door after it closed. I had already decided to do what he said. There was no need to tell, and I sure as hell didn't want to start anything with the Kings. With Dallas gone, we had pretty much managed to steer clear of getting involved in the kind of violence he used to drag us into. Shepard and his gang still called on us occasionally for backup, if there was something big going on, but we weren't really considered part of his outfit. Though, if something got started between me and the Kings, I figured we were gonna have to make ourselves be, pretty damned quick.

No, I wasn't gonna say anything. I'd just say I never saw the guy's face; that he was wearing a mask. I was working on my lie when I fell back asleep.

…………....................

The next time I opened my eyes, I found Darry and Ponyboy sitting beside me, talking softly.

"Hey guys," I said. I could practically see Ponyboy's body straighten up as the weight of all his worry slid off his back.

"Soda," he said, coming over to the bed. "God, you scared us."

"Aw, c'mon Pony, what are you talkin' about? it's just a little ol' bullet hole." I actually got him to smile.

"Yeah, well the doc said if it had been a couple inches to the left it would have killed you, Soda. It ain't nothin' to joke about. Who was it?" Darry was done being worried; now he was just plain angry.

"I didn't see him. He was wearing a mask." It was easier than I had expected it to be to lie to Darry. I certainly didn't have much practice at it.

"Did you recognize his voice?"

"No." That was the truth - if I hadn't seen the guy, I never would have recognized him by voice alone.

"Shepard swears he's gonna find out who did this to you, and take him to the cleaners." I could tell by his tone that Darry was just fine with that idea.

That was exactly what I was trying to avoid. If Shepard made a move, they would come back at us, then we'd have to get back at them… Things had been so much easier lately without all that revenge business, and I was fixing to keep it that way.

"There's a cop outside," Darry said. "I'm supposed to tell him when you're awake. Can you talk to him now?"

I shrugged. "I guess so. I told you, Darry, I didn't see who it was."

Darry left and returned a few minutes later with a youngish-looking cop, who sat where Darry had been sitting, up by my head.

"Mr. Curtis, I'm Officer Knowlton. I just have to ask you a few questions about what happened last night, all right?"

"Okay." I was actually less nervous about lying to the cop than I had been about lying to Darry.

"Your brother Darrel says you told him that you didn't see who it was that shot you?"

"That's right."

"Can you tell me exactly how it happened?"

I told him what had happened, leaving in all the details except for the fact that I'd seen his face – and actually _recognized_ him.

"Did you see his vehicle?"

"No," I lied. "I was stocking the shelves when he drove in, so I was turned around."

"Well, if you think of anything else, please give me a call," he said, standing up and handing a business card to Darry, who put it in his wallet.

"Thanks, officer," Darry said, shaking his hand. "We'll let you know."

"Hope you get better soon," the cop said, walking over to the door.

"Thanks." I couldn't read any suspicion that I was lying in the guy's voice.

Darry and Pony went down and got themselves dinner from the cafeteria, and brought it back to the room to eat with me. I ended up eating half of their dinner instead of my own, since the hospital food wasn't exactly anything to write home about. I was surprised when the doctor came in and told me that, as long as there was no sign of infection, I would be able to go home the next day. They had put metal into part of my shoulder blade, to hold it together until the bone healed, but there was nothing more they could do until it healed, and they felt it could do that just as well at home as in the hospital. Afterward, I might need therapy to get my full range of motion back.

Pony sat on my bed while he ate, and I could tell from his face that this whole thing had shaken him up pretty badly. I felt bad that he had picked up the phone when Steve called – thinking I was dying, probably, just as I had. I could only imagine how I'd feel if I ever got the same call about Pony. I was waiting to talk to Steve about what had happened at the DX after he called them– I didn't even know if Darry and Pony had arrived there before I left in the ambulance, or what. I couldn't remember anything after I heard those sirens. I didn't want to ask Darry or Pony, because I'm sure they had both been a mess and wouldn't want to talk about it. Steve would fill me in, though.

……………………

Later that night, around eleven, as I was trying to convince Pony and Darry to go home and sleep in their own beds, Steve appeared in the doorway with Tim Shepard at his side.

"Good news, Soda," he grinned at me, coming over to the bed and sitting. "They got him."

"What? Got _who?_"

"The asshole who shot you, that's who. They just picked him up down at the Kings' hangout. Tried to fight the cops, and nearly got his_ own _dumb ass shot, too!" Tim was all smiles. "Soon as I heard, I picked up Steve so we could come break the news to you in person."

"_What?_ How did they find him? I didn't see him. How did they know who it was?"

"The car, Soda," Steve said. "I saw the back of the car when I came running around front after I heard the shot. Once I told them what kind o' car it was, it rang a bell down at the station that that particular car belongs to one Mr. Joseph McQuade, a.k.a. Joey Mac, card-carrying River King. Idiot didn't cover his tracks very well. I only wish we got a chance to mess him up for you 'fore the cops got to him."

The car. Of course. The cops would have questioned Steve before me, and he could identify the make and model of any car from a mile away.

"How can they prove it was him?"

"They can't, yet. They just booked him on suspicion. You and me are the ones who gets to nail him, in court."

Oh. Shit.

McQuade hadn't known that Steve was there when he shot me. He couldn't have known that Steve's information about the car was how the cops tracked him down. As far as he knew there was only one person who could have ratted him out.

And that one person was me.


	3. Chapter 3

"_Sheesh_, Soda, we thought you'd be happy," Steve said, sitting down on my bed as both he and Tim looked at me, confused. "The guy tried to kill you, for Christ's sake."

"I know… I mean, I am," I lied. So many thoughts were spinning around in my head, so fast, that I had to lay back down and close my eyes to keep from getting sick.

"You okay, buddy?" Darry sounded concerned, and stood up, leaning over me and grabbing my good shoulder. "You want me to get the nurse?"

"No, I'm okay. Just got a little dizzy there, for a second." I rubbed my forehead and opened my eyes again, looking over at Tim.

"So, where's this McQuade at, now?"

"He got a couple days right off the bat for resisting arrest, and assault and battery on the cop. He'll probably be locked up until next weekend or so."

"Yeah, then what?" I asked. I knew that the minute this guy was back on the street he would be gunning for me. That is, if he didn't have all the rest of the Kings already handling it for him. Shit, I was gonna have to be watching my back every second. I could only hope that when McQuade finally got to me – and I was sure he would, eventually – that he would give me a second to talk, before pulling the trigger, to tell him that I hadn't broken my promise. I _didn't_ tell, and I _still _wouldn't, in court. The hard part now would be making it to court alive.

"Court date is a week from Tuesday. You and I both gotta testify." Steve sounded excited. God, I loved the guy, and I know he was thinking he had been helpful in leading the cops to McQuade, but _hell_, he had _no idea_ what a world of trouble he had just brought down on me. It all would have been so _easy _– just lie to the cops, and it would have been all over. McQuade would have no further need for me. He'd go his way, and I'd go mine. But now: cops, court, jail... Jesus, I thought after all the trouble with Ponyboy behind us we would finally be steering clear of the courts for a while. _Jesus_.

"What's this McQuade look like, anyway?" I asked. It occurred to me that possibly – hopefully – they might have picked up the wrong guy.

"You've seen him before; he was at the last rumble. Big tall guy, black hair, missing one of his front teeth."

That was him, all right.

"Used to be second in Kings command under Mugsy Garber," Tim continued.

"_Used to be?_"

"Yeah, you didn't hear about that? Seems Mugsy got himself caught working over a factory boss down by the river a couple o' months ago. The guy took a pretty good beating and died a few days later. So Mugsy earned himself a trip to the Big Mac for ten to twenty." If Dallas had still been around, I'm sure we would have known all about this, but since he'd died, we had been pretty much out of the loop, most of the time, about what was going on with the gangs.

"So, what, now this McQuade is running the Kings?"

"Well, now, that's the thing," Tim said. "Right now, _nobody_ is running the Kings. But there are a whole lot of people who would _like_ to be, if you know what I mean. I'm sure that's what that whole stunt at the DX was about."

"I don't get you, Tim," I said. "The DX is nowhere near Kings territory, and I sure as hell ain't a King. Why would he come after _me_?"

"It didn't have nothin' to do with _you_, kid. Don't flatter yourself. McQuade don't care one bit about somebody like you, he's got no reason to be puttin' a target on _your_ back."

Well, _in fact_, Tim, I thought, thanks to Steve here, I have a feeling there is a pretty damned big one on my back, right about now.

"You see, kid, it's about _respect_ – and who gets the most," he went on. "All those guys who want to be in control now, well, they're playing a little game, all of 'em trying to prove that they're the toughest and the smoothest and the meanest. They ain't gonna take out anyone in their own territory, because that's sure to piss off some of the very members they're trying to impress. So they've been goin' out provin' themselves in other parts of the city. Shit, shootin' you dead probably woulda earned McQuade a whole bunch of new followers. But he messed up, and you ain't dead, and now he's in the cooler. So now it's somebody else's turn to prove what hot shit they are. But I'll tell you, I'll be damned if they think they're gonna pull any more of this shit in our neighborhood. I got my boys chasin' any Kings they see right back into their own part of town, and givin' em a pretty good clock cleanin', while they're at it, too."

Great. So not only did I have one pissed-off River King- whose reputation I had ruined by failing to die - comin' after me, I also had Shepard and his gang starting what I was sure would end up being a long, drawn-out war between his outfit and the Kings.

"I'm not really looking for revenge, Tim," I said. "I'm glad enough to just be alive."

"Revenge is my business, Curtis. You don't even have to ask for it, it's just another service I provide for my good friends."

I realized that Tim was really no different than those Kings he had just been talking about, playing their game. Tim Shepard didn't get to be the leader of his gang by backing down. His ego was as big as any, and for him to not react to the Kings taking me down in his part of town would read as weakness. And weakness was not something Tim Shepard showed. Ever.

"Don't worry, Soda, you can thank us later," Steve said, and I realized that, under normal circumstances, I _should_ be thanking them for getting the guy caught. If only there wasn't that little problem about him now wanting to kill me.

"Thanks, Steve," I managed. "You too, Tim. Just don't go getting' yourself killed over me, okay? I ain't dead."

"I ain't getting' myself killed over _anyone_, kid," he answered, turning to leave. "See y'all around town."

"Bye Tim," I said, and Steve got up from my bed.

"I gotta go too, Soda – he's my ride. I'll come by the house after work tomorrow and visit. You want me to bring you anything?"

"No, don't worry about it."

"Well, call down to the shop if you think of anything, okay?"

"I will. Seeya, Steve."

"'Night, all," he said, and went running down the hall after Tim.

Darry sat down on my bed where Steve had been.

"Well, that's a relief, huh?" he said. "Getting' that guy off the streets."

I nodded, slowly, not saying anything.

"What, Soda? You don't seem too happy about it. What's going on?"

"Nothing," I lied. "I just … I coulda _died_, Darry. But I didn't. So the last thing I need is Tim or one of his gang gettin' themselves killed over it."

"That's not your worry, Soda. Tim handles things the way he wants to."

"I know." I wasn't convincing enough, I guess, because he got right on my case.

"_Soda,_" Darry warned. "You're _not_ gonna waste your energy worrying about it. You don't need to be thinking about it."

I glanced over at Pony who was starting to drift off in the uncomfortable plastic hospital chair.

"Take him home, Darry," I whispered. "Let him get some sleep." I was sure he hadn't slept at all the previous night. I wasn't real keen on being alone all night, but with McQuade in lockup for the time being, I thought things might be all right. If Pony hadn't been so obviously exhausted, I might have let Darry stay, but he clearly needed sleep.

"You sure?" Darry asked. "I can bring him home and get Two-Bit to come over, and come back."

"I'm okay, Darry. I'm already in the hospital… what more is gonna happen?" I almost convinced myself, trying to convince him, that nothing could.

"Okay. But I'll be back in the morning to take you home."

"Okay."

Darry leaned down and looked me in the eyes.

"I'm real glad you're okay, Soda. We both wouldn't have been able to take it if we lost you." He motioned to Pony, asleep now in the chair.

"Thanks, Darry. I need you guys, too. But bring him home to his own bed."

"Alright." Darry went over and gently awakened Pony, who groggily stumbled over to the bed.

"'Night Soda," he said, nuzzling his head against mine. "Don't get any infection, so you can come home tomorrow, 'kay?"

"I promise. 'Night Pony."

"'Night." Darry reached down and pushed my hair back off my forehead. "Sleep well, Soda."

"I will."

That was only another one of the many lies I had been telling him.

I lay awake, hour after hour, thinking about what I could do to make it to court alive, so I could just tell my lie and put an end to all of it.


	4. Chapter 4

I was awake most of the night, only managing to sleep for the first hour or so after each dose of pain medication. After that, I would jolt awake in a panic, the reality of my situation overwhelming me. I knew McQuade was in jail for the night, at the very least, but who knew what other Kings might have been instructed to take care of his business with me… I was sleeping with one eye open, pretty much.

I was seeing the guy's face every time I closed my eyes – every time the door opened, my heart raced until I saw that it was a doctor or nurse. I lay there thinking; wondering if there was any way to head this disaster off at the pass. I was determined that my original decision was for the best – that lying in court was the best thing I could do, for everyone. Hell, I'd already lied to the cops, I couldn't change my story now without getting _myself _into trouble. I could just tell Steve that maybe it was somebody else driving McQuade's car, that once I heard his voice and saw his build I knew it wasn't him. McQuade would be free, and I wouldn't have to be involved with anything going on between his gang and Shepard's. The lying part would be easy.

Somehow, though, I had to _get_ to him, to tell him that it hadn't been me; that I hadn't ratted him out. He'd never have to know who it _had_ been – hell, I wasn't looking to rip the target off my own back just to stick it onto Steve's – all he had to know was that _somebody_ had ID'd his car… and that it _hadn't_ been me.

Suddenly, as the nurse came in to give me my morning pills and change the dressing on my shoulder, it came to me. McQuade was in lockup. _That_ was the place I could meet him, knowing he would be unarmed and unable to do anything before I got a chance to tell him what happened. My worries about him taking me down on the street somewhere, or even getting to me in my own house, before I got a chance to talk were, for the moment, calmed.

Now I had a new problem, though: How the hell was I going to get somebody to take me to the jail without an explanation? I figured I wouldn't be able to drive for a while – definitely not until well after he was out of the joint. It was gonna be a hard sell to get any of the guys to take me to the jailhouse to talk to the guy they believed – correctly – had shot me. I was thinking about it, when, suddenly, fate stepped in, shook my hand, and introduced himself, as the solution to my problem walked right through the hospital room door.

"Good morning, Mr. Curtis." It was the cop that had been there the day before. There wasn't a chance in hell I was gonna remember his name, what with all the pain drugs they had me on, but I did recognize his face.

"Mornin'," I responded. "You can call me Soda." Mr. Curtis, in my mind, was Dad, or sometimes Darry, but not _me_. He came over and sat by my head again.

"I assume you've already heard that we have a suspect in your shooting," he said. I nodded.

"We're going to need you to positively identify him," he continued, "as soon as you're able."

"Okay." This was it, I realized. They actually _wanted_ me to see him. They were gonna bring him right to me, or me to him, while he was still locked up. I tried not to look as relieved as I was feeling. I was a little confused though, about how they expected me to identify someone I had already told them I hadn't seen.

"I understand you're being released today?"

"I hope so."

"Well, as soon as you get settled at home, we'll be in touch and have you come down to the jail and make the identification."

"I told you before, I didn't see him. How am I supposed to tell if it's him if I never saw him?"

"We just need you to hear his voice, look at his build, make sure it matches up to what you saw and heard. We can't keep him locked up past Wednesday without your ID."

"So, what, if I say it ain't him he just goes free?" I hoped that was the case.

"No, he is still expected in court next Tuesday. His car was at the scene, so he's gonna have to explain that to the judge. He was already on probation, so the courts may well throw the book at him on this one if they get the chance."

Just then the door opened and Two-Bit came in, followed by Darry, whose expression turned to concern as he took in the cop sitting by my bed.

The officer stood up as the two came in and offered his hand to Darry.

"Hello again, Mr. Curtis," he said.

"Officer Knowlton." Darry nodded toward him. Of course _he_ would remember his name. He's always had a mind like a steel trap.

"I was just letting your brother know that we'll be needing him to come down to the jail and ID our suspect in his shooting, as soon as possible. You're taking him home today?"

"That's right." Darry was in full guardian mode. I noticed how he skillfully positioned himself between me and the cop.

"Well, we have him locked up until Wednesday, on unrelated charges. We'll give you a call tomorrow to set up a time for him to come down and make the identification."

"That will be fine… as long as he's up to it." Leave it to Darry to let a cop know that he had the right of refusal for whatever they were suggesting. Even the cops, however, rarely messed with Darry's authority. He treated them with respect, and they generally did the same.

"Right. Of course. As long as he's up to it." The cop did, however, shoot me a glance behind Darry's back that told me that if I knew what was best for me, I would be up for it.

"We'll be in touch," the cop said to Darry, eyeing Two-Bit on his way out. Two-Bit smiled innocently. I had to fight back a giggle.

"You too, officer," Darry said, looking as intimidating as I have ever seen him.

"It's fine, Darry," I said, as soon as the cop was gone. "I'll be fine."

"You just got _shot_, Soda. The cops need to back off… give you some time."

"And what, let the guy _go_, Darry?" I figured it was a good idea to let Darry think I was out to jail the jerk, despite the fact that I had every intention of letting him go, scot-free.

"We'll see. I ain't lettin' you do anything you're not ready for."

"I feel better today, Darry. Really. So I'm goin' home?"

"The doctor's gonna be in to see about you. If everything looks okay, Two-Bit's taking you home. I hafta go in to work. Two-Bit's takin' the day off to stay with you."

"Pony went to school?"

"Yeah. He didn't want to, but he did. He's already missed too many days this year. You're okay, so he went." I could only imagine the battle that had occurred at the house that morning.

"I don't need a babysitter, Darry,"

"Oh, it's my pleasure," Two-Bit said. Any excuse for a day off from school was good enough for him.

The door opened again and a doctor came in. He introduced himself to Darry and I hardly listened, thinking about how eager I was to get to talk to McQuade and put my mind at ease, and this whole mess behind me.

The doctor lifted my shoulder bandage and looked at my bullet wound, making noises that could have meant either that he was satisfied or he wasn't. He asked me a few questions about how I was feeling, and then just stood there, silently writing things on my chart. It was like taking a driving test, where at the end you pull into the parking space and the instructor says nothing, just sits there filling out paperwork while you are about to explode, wondering whether or not you passed.

"So…" he started. It took all of my patience not to yell at him… "So _what?_" Darry looked just as irritated. Behind him, Two-Bit was quietly opening every cabinet in the room and checking out the merchandise.

"Everything looks good." Darry and I breathed a mutual sigh of relief.

He turned to Darry.

"If there is any swelling, unusual discharge from the wound, or if he spikes a fever, I want him back in here, immediately."

"Yes, sir," Darry said.

"The nurse will be in to show you how to change his dressing. His discharge papers should be ready by then."

"Thank you, Doctor," Darry said, finally coming over and sitting down in the seat the cop had been sitting in. He looked over at me and I could see him evaluating me like no doctor ever could. Darry _knew_, just by looking at me, what the score was.

"How you _really_ feeling?" he asked, and I knew lying was useless.

"Okay, I guess," I said, and he accepted it.

"You think you're ready?" he asked. "To come home?"

"Yeah, Darry… _yeah_." I hadn't realized how much I wanted to go home until that moment.

Just then, a nurse came in and gently pulled up my bandage again, telling Darry what to do when he changed it, and what to look for that would mean it was getting infected. He listened carefully to what she said, and thanked her when she left.

"So… looks like I'm your nurse from now on," he said. "You okay with that?"

"Yeah," I smiled. "I'm okay with that." There was nobody on Earth I trusted more than him to make sure I was okay.

"So you ready to get out of here?"

"Nothin' I want more," I answered. "Sign me up." As if on cue, a nurse came in with my discharge papers and Darry officially signed me out of the hospital. He pushed me in the wheelchair to where Two-Bit had pulled up with his car. Two-Bit jumped out of the driver's side and ran around to the passenger side, opening the door and helping Darry get me in. It might have been my shoulder that got shot, but _man_, my whole body was weak and achy.

He handed Two-Bit a bag with the pills they had sent home with me.

"One every three hours, Two-Bit, that's _it_. _I mean it. No more. Got it?_" Darry was forever paranoid about drugs.

"I got it," Two-Bit said, taking the bag.

"I'll see you tonight," Darry said, squeezing my hand, and giving me a sorry-I-have-to-work look.

"I'll be fine, Darry. Seeya tonight." He closed the door and headed off to the truck as Two-Bit pulled out of the parking lot, headed for our house.

I was not altogether surprised to find Ponyboy waiting for us at home. He was right there sitting on the porch, smoking a cigarette, as though it was nothing out of the ordinary for him to be home at ten in the morning on a school day.

"Darry's gonna have your head," I warned, as Two-Bit helped me out of the car.

He shrugged as he came to help me up, throwing his cigarette over the porch railing and taking my full weight from my good side as he guided me up the steps and into the bedroom, setting me down on the bed.

I was glad to get settled down – all the moving around had made me awful sore. It was no longer just the shoulder and arm, either – now the pain stretched clear across my chest and back. The bruising from the surgery practically covered my whole front… I hadn't had a chance to look in a mirror and see what my back looked like, but if how it felt was any indication of how it looked, I was sure it didn't look good. I closed my eyes and tried to rest, but had trouble finding a comfortable position.

I adjusted the pillow under my back and groaned, trying to roll over a bit.

"You okay, Soda?" I thought Pony had left, but I guess I was wrong, because I opened my eyes to find him staring at me from his desk chair, looking concerned.

"Yeah… I'm alright. Just… hurts. Can you tell Two-Bit to bring me one o' them pain pills?"

"Yeah, sure." He backed out of the room, eyeing me worriedly. I didn't take for granted the effect that me getting shot was having on the poor kid. Jesus, after losing our folks, just the thought of losing one of the three of us was enough to send shivers down my spine. More than anything, I was lying for McQuade to keep my family safe and out of the way of the Kings' violence. The last thing I needed was revenge getting served against my brothers for me having ratted out a King. I was never gonna let that happen.

Damn. Of all the gas stations in the city, the loser had to pick mine. And now I was caught up in a mess of his making.

Pony came back in with the pill and within minutes of taking it, the pain faded into numbness, taking me with it. I felt Pony lying down on the bed next to me as I started to slip away.

……………………….

"_What the hell are you doing here, Ponyboy?_" I awoke with a start to Darry yelling and Pony sitting up in the bed. I guess both of us had been sleeping. I glanced at the clock. Twelve-thirty. Involuntarily I grunted at the pain of tensing my busted shoulder at the sound of Darry's voice.

"Sorry, Soda," Darry said, sitting down next to me and putting his hand on my forehead, but staring at Ponyboy.

"_Jesus, Pony, I told you, you can't miss any more days! I thought we agreed about this_!"

"Darry, he got _shot_ two days ago. I wasn't about to let you leave him here alone."

"He ain't _alone_, Pony. Two-Bit's here."

"Yeah, and he's real attentive, too, out there drinking his beer." Pony whispered. He seemed pretty upset. I guess Darry and I were so used to looking out for Pony that we had missed the fact that he was just as concerned with the two of us.

"Look, Darry, he'll go back tomorrow, okay? You know if you could have you woulda stayed home today, too. What are you doing home so early anyway?"

Darry looked sheepish.

"I was worryin' so much about you the boss sent me home at lunch. But he's payin' me for a full day." Darry was a good worker, and his boss must have known that he would more than make up for any time missed. He knew all about our home situation and that we needed the money. We were lucky… another guy might have just let Darry go – his "family emergencies" seemed to happen more often than one would expect – but this boss was a real nice guy.

"So I guess we're all here," I said. Darry lay back on the bed and the three of us all stared up at the ceiling, silent, but all of us thanking God, I'm pretty sure, that we were still three.

And I was looking to keep it that way, lies be damned.


	5. Chapter 5

I slept, off and on, waking up every few hours or so as the pain pills wore off to a burning feeling down my whole side. In my half-awake state I remembered thinking that maybe there was one good thing about Dallas having been shot dead – he didn't have to deal with any of the pain I was going through. As my thoughts became clearer, though, I realized I was dead wrong; there was nothing good about Dallas being shot dead, and the kid had suffered as much pain as I was suffering – just a different kind of pain.

Hell, I thought, these pills are making me think like Ponyboy, all deep and everything. I didn't really like it - not feeling like myself - and as I woke up to the smell of dinner cooking and the sound of voices in the living room I decided to try to hold off on another dose until bedtime. The pain was bad but the thinking about death and dying was no fun either, so I gritted my teeth against the burning sensation and sat up, dragging myself up to a standing position, using the bedside table as support.

I worked my way along the wall and out to the hallway, stopping to lean against the living room doorframe, taking in the scene. Pony was crashed out on the couch, some science fiction show on the television, unwatched. Steve and Two-Bit were sitting on the floor involved in some sort of card game. Instead of money, they appeared to be using popcorn as currency, a large number of kernels out of the bowl and scattered on the floor.

"I'll see you and raise you two," Two-Bit said, taking a swig from his beer and sliding two pieces of popcorn across the floor. I certainly hoped they weren't planning on eating it afterward - lord only knews when the last time anybody washed the floor was.

"Darry ain't gonna like this mess," I said, and they both looked up at me. Ponyboy stirred in his sleep and sat up.

"Ah, sleeping beauty awakens," Two-Bit said.

I tried not to grimace as I made my way over to the couch and sat down next to Pony. He gave me the once-over and must have read the pain in my eyes.

"You want me to have Darry get you a pill?" he asked.

"No, not yet. I'm tryin' to hold off for a while. Those things make me loopy."

Pony looked concerned but didn't say anything. Darry must have heard my voice and I heard his heavy footsteps coming down from the kitchen.

"So how long til you can come back to work?" Steve asked me, only half-joking. We both far preferred each other's company to the other guys who worked at the DX. Not that they were bad guys; they just weren't as, well, _fun_.

"Christ, Steve, he just got shot_, at work_. He ain't gotta be in any hurry to go back just yet." Pony sounded annoyed.

"Soda ain't goin' anywhere near work til he's all healed up ad the doc says he can go. I can pick up some extra shifts down at the warehuse, we'll be fine." Darry turned to me. "You okay? You want another pill?"

"No, I'm okay."

"You think you're up for some dinner?"

"Sure smells good. What'd you make?"

"Pot roast." He must have made it hoping I'd eat some; he knew it was my favorite.

"That sounds real good," I said.

"Aw, Dar… my favorite… You shouldn't have," Two-Bit said.

"Yeah, you two can stay tonight, but keep in mind that we're a man down on the income here at the Curtis house. So I can't be feedin' the whole neighborhood every night." Darry pretended to sound annoyed but we all knew as well as he did that he'd never tell them they weren't welcome. You just can't cut friendship out of the budget. He came over to stand by me.

"You wanna come to the table, or just eat here?" he asked. Normally he didn't want us eating dinner anywhere but at the table – a tradition we'd kept after our folks died, but I suppose he felt my circumstances deserved some leniency.

"Nah, I can come to the table," I said, though as I tried to get up I realized there was nothing to brace myself against, just the soft couch cushions. "I'm gonna need some help getting up, though."

Tw-Bit and Steve started to get up but Darry stopped them without even turning around.

"Forget it, you two. You got a mess to clean up and you ain't getting jack of my roast if I see one piece of popcorn on this floor." They sat back down and started picking the pieces up off the floor, making even more of a mess as they started throwing them into the bowl, then at each other.

Pony wrapped his arm around my waist while Darry gripped my good arm. Even though they didn't touch me anywhere near my wound, I hissed a bit at the pain and Darry didn't miss it.

"Soda, you need a pill, take one. I ain't gonna give you a hard time about it; obviously you're in pain."

"I don't like the ideas they put in my head, Dar; thinkin' about stuff I don't wanna think about. I'll take one at bedtime."

"You want just some regular aspirin? Doc said that's okay."

"Yeah, maybe." Pony helped me into my seat at the table and Darry headed off to his room to get me a few aspirin.

Two-Bit and Steve came in and sat down and I heard Darry stop to check out the living room. It must have passed inspection, because he didn't say anything. Not 'til he got back to the kitchen, anyway.

"Next time you two want to throw around snacks, bring your own," Darry said. "This ain't the circus; I shouldn't have to feed the animals."

"You got it, Dar," Two-Bit answered, all too happily.

"Sorry, Darry," Steve added, halfheartedly.

Darry had made the pot roast extra creamy, the way I like it, and I was savoring the first decent meal I'd had since dinner the night before I'd been shot. In fact, everybody seemed to be enjoying it, even Pony, who can be a pretty picky eater.

"Delicious, Dar," I said. "Thanks."

He looked up and smiled.

"Glad to see you eating. You musta lost ten pounds, with how little you ate in the hospital."

"Well, you keep cookin' like this and I'll gain back twice as much," I said, and the guys all agreed.

We were just about finishing up when the phone rang. Darry was standing at the sink starting the dishes, so he grabbed it.

"Hello?"

We all listened, but couldn't hear the voice on the other end.

"Oh, hi officer. What can we do for you?"

Crap. The cops. My whole situation, which I had been trying desperately to forget, came crashing back down on me.

"I think so." He put his hand over the receiver and turned to me. "You up for talking to the cops?"

"I guess so," I shrugged. I figured the sooner I got it over with, the better. Ponyboy helped me up and I took the phone, leaning against the wall.

"Hello?"

"Is this Sodapop Curtis?"

"Yes."

"Is anyone else on the line?"

"No." That was a strange question, I thought.

"Good. Because this sure ain't the goddamn cops."

I almost lost my footing as I realized that I was live on the line with one of the Kings. Not only did McQuade have his goons already taking care of his business, they had the balls to get to me at home.

"Not a very smart move, kid; ratting Joey out."

I didn't answer, sure that my voice would betray me to Darry.

"Well, I'm calling for Joey Mac himself, just to let to let you know that you have exactly 24 hours to get your ass down to the station and tell the cops they got the wrong guy. "

"Uh… I don't think that will be a problem," I said, trying to sound as though it really was a cop on the other end.

"It better not be, or you're gonna have bigger problems than you ever dreamed of. You shoulda just kept your goddamed mouth shut, kid. You're messing with the wrong people when you screw over a King."

"I'm, uh… I'll do whatever I can to help." Everyone was staring at me and I was hoping my face didn't show my panic.

"Yeah, well, you'd better do just that. Or believe me, you're gonna fucking pay."

I didn't doubt for a second that he meant it.

"I will."

"We've got our eye on you, kid. Don't fuckin' forget it."

"I won't."

He hung up. I waited for a second, after I heard the dialtone, then said:

"Okay, officer. I'll be down tomorrow. Bye." I hung up the phone and tried to get back over to the chair, though I seemed to have lost all of my strength. Darry grabbed me as I was about to fall and helped me over to the chair.

"_Tomorrow?_ Jesus Christ, you can hardly walk. They couldn't have even given you a _day_ to rest?"

"I'm okay, just tired. And I'd rather get it over with sooner rather than later."

Darry looked at me, and I could tell he was trying to decide whether there was more to it.

"All right, then I want you back in bed, if you're that tired. Last thing I want happening is you falling and hurting yourself even more. And if you don't look good to me in the morning, you ain't goin' anywhere. The cops can wait."

I made a mental note to try to not look as shitty as I felt, come morning.

"C'mon," Pony said, helping me up and walking me down to the bedroom, stopping in the bathroom so I could take a piss. Steve walked behind us, worried I was going to fall over. Pony could have handled me, on his own, though – he'd started to bulk up now that he was back to running.

I sat down on the bed, unbuttoning my jeans so Pony could pull them off, then swinging my legs over and lying back. Shit, but I hurt.

"Nighty, night, buddy," Steve said. "Give me a call if you need anything tomorrow."

"Alright. Thanks, man."

"Feel better," he said, leaving me and Pony alone as he headed back down to help Darry with the dishes. He was back, though, a minute later, with a glass of water and a pill.

"Compliments of your big brother. He says take it, _or else_." I cringed; I'd already had enough threats for one night.

I didn't want to – I didn't like feeling out of it and having my guard so down, especially when people I didn't even know were out there gunning for me. But Steve and Pony both stood there, watching me, so I had no choice. I downed the pill and Steve took off again to help Darry.

"Need anything else?" Pony asked.

Just to erase the whole past week, I thought.

"No, I'm good."

"You want me to sleep on the couch so I don't wake you up later?" Pony asked.

"No, sleep here. It's okay." I wanted him as close as possible, until the whole mess was cleared up.

"Alright, then. Sleep well."

"Night," I said, as he closed the door behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts, none of which were even the least bit pleasant.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**A/N: I know; you probably thought this fic was abandoned. And have completely forgotten what was going on! It wasn't, just that my other fic comes to me much more easily- It's a lot harder to get into Soda's head. I vowed to update in time for his canon birthday, though, October 8. So I took today (my birthday) off to give him some love. Happy Birthday, Soda! Good luck getting out of this little jam…**


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